Hunger.
1241 Words
Scarlett woke to silence.
For a moment she didn’t move, her body still half-curled in the wooden chair beside the hearth. The fire had burned low during the night, leaving the cottage dim and quiet except for the faint crackle of dying embers.
Then she remembered.
The stranger.
Her eyes snapped open.
The bed.
Empty.
Scarlett shot to her feet so quickly the chair scraped loudly across the wooden floor.
Her heart began pounding.
“Hello?” she called cautiously.
No answer.
The small cottage suddenly felt much larger—and much more dangerous.
The door was still closed. The windows were still barred.
Which meant…
He was still inside.
Scarlett slowly stepped away from the hearth, her eyes scanning the room.
“Listen,” she said carefully to the empty air, “if you’re awake, we should probably talk about—”
A sound behind her.
The faint shift of wood.
Scarlett spun around.
He stood in the shadowed corner near the window.
Watching her.
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.
“Gods—!” she gasped, clutching her chest.
He didn’t react to her panic.
He simply observed her, his expression calm and unreadable.
In the pale morning light spilling through the window, he looked different.
Stronger.
The weakness from the night before had faded.
His shoulders were straight now, his posture naturally commanding.
Scarlett’s eyes dropped immediately to his chest.
The bandages she had wrapped around him were loose.
And the wound beneath them…
Gone.
Completely.
Scarlett stared.
“That’s incredible.”
He followed her gaze downward as if noticing it for the first time himself.
His hand brushed over the smooth skin where the deep injury had been.
His brow furrowed slightly.
“I was hurt.”
“You were dying,” Scarlett corrected.
He seemed to consider that.
“Yes.”
Scarlett folded her arms.
“Well, now you’re not.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then he spoke again.
“You watched me.”
Scarlett blinked.
“What?”
“While I slept.”
Her cheeks warmed slightly.
“I was making sure you didn’t die in my bed,” she said defensively.
His gaze moved slowly over the small cottage.
The wooden walls.
The hearth.
The narrow bed.
Everything about the place was simple.
Small.
Fragile.
Then his eyes returned to her.
“You brought me here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Scarlett sighed.
“You asked that already.”
“And you did not answer.”
“I did,” she said. “You were hurt.”
He stepped closer.
Scarlett noticed immediately how quiet his movements were.
Predatory.
Controlled.
“You risked your life,” he said.
Scarlett shrugged faintly.
“You didn’t look very threatening at the time.”
His eyes flickered with something dark.
“You were wrong.”
Scarlett didn’t doubt that.
Not even a little.
Her gaze drifted to his face again.
He really was… unsettling to look at.
Beautiful in a way that felt dangerous.
Like staring at a finely crafted blade.
“Do you remember anything yet?” she asked.
He shook his head once.
“No.”
“Not even your name?”
“No.”
Scarlett exhaled slowly.
“Well,” she said, “I can’t keep calling you ‘stranger.’”
His head tilted slightly.
“You may call me whatever you wish.”
Scarlett frowned.
That felt like a dangerous amount of authority to give someone.
Still…
She studied him for a moment.
She took one look at his red hair and cold red eyes, and the perfect name came to her.
“Tom,” she said suddenly.
The name slipped from her mouth without thought.
His entire body went still.
Scarlett blinked.
“What?”
He stared at her.
Something flickered in his eyes.
In that moment, he was reborn.
He was Tom.
“I like it..”
Scarlett felt a small thrill of success.
“See?” she said. “We’re making progress.”
But Tom wasn’t listening anymore.
His attention had shifted.
To her throat.
Scarlett noticed instantly.
The way his eyes darkened.
The way his breathing changed.
Slow.
Deep.
Predatory.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
Right.
That.
Tom took one slow step toward her.
Scarlett held her ground.
“You’re hungry,” she said.
His fangs slid slowly into view.
Scarlett swallowed.
“Okay,” she added quickly, “that confirms it.”
Another step.
The scent of her blood filled the air between them.
Warm.
Sweet.
Tom’s control thinned.
Scarlett could see the struggle written clearly across his face.
He stopped only inches away.
Close enough that she could feel the cold air around his body.
Close enough that his shadow fell across her completely.
His hand lifted slowly.
Scarlett froze as his fingers brushed against her throat.
Her pulse jumped violently beneath his touch.
His eyes followed the movement.
Hypnotized.
“Your heart,” he murmured.
“It is… loud.”
Scarlett let out a shaky breath.
“That happens when someone with fangs is touching your neck.”
He leaned closer.
Scarlett felt the brush of his breath against her skin.
Her pulse raced faster.
His thumb pressed lightly against the frantic beat.
Hunger surged violently through him.
One bite.
That was all it would take.
Scarlett’s voice broke the silence.
“If you’re going to do it,” she said softly, “just… don’t tear my throat out.”
Tom paused.
His eyes lifted slowly to her face.
“You believe I won’t kill you.”
Scarlett met his gaze.
“I nearly did last night.”
His fingers tightened slightly around her throat.
Not enough to hurt.
But enough to remind her how easily he could.
Something strange twisted in his chest.
He didn’t want her afraid.
That realization confused him.
Tom pulled his hand away suddenly and stepped back.
Scarlett blinked in surprise.
“You didn’t,” she said.
“No.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he turned slightly away from her.
“I do not know.”
Scarlett studied him carefully.
He looked… frustrated.
Almost angry with himself.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “that hunger probably isn’t going away.”
Tom glanced back at her.
“What would you suggest?”
Scarlett rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
“I suppose… you could take a little.”
His eyes sharpened.
“From you.”
The air in the room shifted instantly.
Scarlett’s stomach flipped.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
Tom stared at her.
“You would allow that.”
Scarlett gave a nervous half-shrug.
“I decided not to give it too much thought.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“I… think I can trust you.”
Tom moved instantly.
He stepped closer again.
Slower this time.
More controlled.
Scarlett forced herself not to retreat.
Her heart was hammering so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
Tom stopped directly in front of her.
His fingers lifted once more to brush lightly against her throat.
Her pulse raced wildly under his touch.
“Only a little,” Scarlett said.
Tom’s gaze lifted to meet hers.
For a long moment neither moved.
Then he leaned down slowly.
His lips brushed her skin.
Scarlett shivered.
His fangs grazed her neck.
And for the first time since waking in the forest—
He gave in to the hunger.
- Writer
